


Where are the Birds?

by Rednubs



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Autistic Meltdown, Autistic Spencer Reid, Gen, Meltdown, Self-Injurious Stimming, Spencer Reid Meltdown, Spencer Reid Whump, Stimming, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rednubs/pseuds/Rednubs
Summary: Spencer has a meltdown and the team is there for him.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 544





	Where are the Birds?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is my first Criminal Minds work. I wrote this in like an hour so I hope it's good. Enjoy!  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds

  
Warm sun rays heat pale skin. _The sun is 92.191 million miles away from Earth_. It’s warm, almost too warm, borderline uncomfortable. _Uncomfortable; adjective- causing or feeling slight pain or physical discomfort_. He fiddles with the straps on his vest, situating and re-situating the velcro to perfectly align with the edges. Normally the pressure of the vest is comforting but today it’s suffocating. _Suffocating; adjective- making one feel trapped or oppressed_. He can hear the gentle breeze dance with the leaves on the big old trees. The bids aren’t chirping. The birds should be chirping. It’s a beautiful summer day, where are the birds?

*************

Morgan watches Reid fiddle obsessively with the straps on his vest. Occasionally he stops and glares up at the sun that has them all sweating. He catches Hotch’s eye and the exchange a careful glance. Reid doesn’t seem agitated, but he is clearly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, his fingers never ceasing their relentless rhythm of unattaching and re-attaching the straps on his bulletproof vest.

Morgan glances around the field they are currently standing in, the thick weeds rest against his knees and he sighs. It’s been a difficult case for everyone. The ones with children are always the hardest. Over the past month, two boys had been abducted somewhere along their commute from school to home in the rural Idaho town. The latest victim, a ten year old boy named Thomas, had just been taken yesterday, and the team worked relentlessly to find his captor. Their search led them to this secluded field, where an old house stood at the edge facing them. They had found the unsub, it was the guidance counselor, he made Morgan’s stomach churn in disgust.

Morgan could hear the blood pumping in his ears as he looked ahead to where they had found Thomas’s body. They hadn’t made it in time. The counselor had quickly admitted to his crimes as he begged for Morgan not to hurt him. Coward.

Morgan exchanged another look with Hotch who nodded minutely to him, giving his permission. He carefully walked up to Reid, “hey man, let’s head back to the precinct and clean up, we’ll be on our way home by dark.” He reached out a guiding hand to the small of Reid’s back, the moment his fingers made contact with Reid’s shirt, he flinched away and looked at Morgan with wide, unfocused eyes.

Morgan lowered his hand, he needed to be smart about his approach, Reid was treading awful deep waters, any wrong move could send his friend into the depths of his own mind. “C’mon,” he urged lightly, “it will be cooler in the SUV, you’ll feel better.”

Reid licked his lips and looked to Morgan like he wanted to respond, but quickly shut his mouth and began stumbling towards the SUV. He stopped at the door and looked toward Hotch quizzically. “He’s just going to finish up here, he will get another ride back.” Morgan reassured him lightly.

He opened the door for Reid who climbed in clumsily and finally discarded the bullet proof vest after fumbling around with the straps for a moment. Morgan hopped into the driver's seat and cranked the AC, while quietly turning on the radio and quickly finding the oldies station, where the tones of the music were soft and soothing. He could see Reid visibly relax with each breath and hoped that once they got to the station he could busy Reid with tasks, other than dealing with the case, to keep his mind occupied.

***********

Just a few hours later, Morgan was settling into his seat on the jet and turning his music up, more than ready to drown out the sounds of Thomas’s sobbing mother. He glanced around at his teammates, Hotch and JJ were sitting across from each other, files on the table, ready to be looked at once they settled in. Rossi and Prentiss were playing cards at the other table, and Reid was sitting on one of the couches and after a moment produced a large book from his messenger bag. Morgan watched him closely as he skimmed down the pages at an impossible speed. He might look relaxed to someone who doesn’t know better, but Morgan knew better.

Reid had a hard time expressing his emotions and what he was feeling at the very best of times, and when he took care of himself and his needs, he would work through these tough cases and come out on the other side, just as glum as the rest of them, but he could handle the whirlwind of emotions better than they sometimes gave him credit for. However, sometimes Reid forgets to take care of his needs. He suppresses his need to stim constantly. He confided in Morgan once that he sometimes tried so hard to appear _‘normal’_ that it _physically_ hurt.

Of course the team knew about his autism. Hotch knew from the moment he joined the bureau and then everyone else knew after they spent some time with him. They never talk about it, but they don’t need to. No one notices when he rocks a little in an office chair or flaps his hands as he rants about something exciting. More often than not, Reid is not stimming in a way that he needs to, hence the not taking care of himself properly. Eventually, as these things seem to go, his emotional dam breaks and he has a meltdown, more often than not it will include some self-injurious behavior. Then he will get ashamed and withdraw into himself even more, and then, in time, the cycle will repeat itself.

Morgan tried to talk to him once about stimming. He tried to encourage him to do what he needs when he feels like he needs it, that way when the dam does break, it might be a little less explosive. Reid however, completely shut down at the mention of it and then proceeded to ignore Morgan for the rest of the day. It was infuriating to Morgan that someone, somewhere, at some time had told Reid his behavior was unacceptable.

Morgan was drawn out of his thoughts by a thud. He pulled his headphones off his head as he looked up and found that it was the book Reid had been previously engrossed in. He was glaring at the book and was hunched forward in his seat at an uncomfortable angle. His breath came in short gasps and it didn’t take long for the rest of the team to notice his distress.

“Spence?” JJ inquired softly, setting the file she had been reading on the table. Spencer hummed in response, the sound exuded frustration. “Spence, what’s wrong?” JJ asked after a moment of humming.

Spencer’s breaths came even quicker and he began to jerkily rock in his hunched over position. Everyone went back to what they were doing, while subtly still watching, making sure Reid didn’t escalate. JJ reopened the case file with a sigh. At that moment Reid promptly lost it. With a grunt he brought up his fist and struck his head, and then he did it again, and again, his other hand snaking into his hair and pulling harshly.

Everyone jumped in surprise, “Spencer, stop hitting.” Hotch’s firm, but soft voice rang out as he recovered from the surprise quicker than the others. Prentiss jumped up quickly and quietly made her way over to the couch where she pulled his bag off the couch and brought it over to JJ where the two of them began to shift through it, hoping to find something that might help.

Reid continued to pommel himself in the head, as his other hand pulled so hard at his hair, it looked as if it was going to tear right out. A bruise was already beginning to form along his temple and a few beads of sweat dripped down his chin. Morgan finally snapped out of his thoughts and jumped out of his seat, racing to Reid’s side.  
“Morgan, don’t.” Hotch warned.

“I’m not just going to sit here and let him hurt himself, man!” Morgan growled, frustrated at his boss for not doing anything.

Morgan tenderly grabbed at the hand that was hitting and held it back, struggling against the flailing limb, the kid was stronger than he looked to be. In response, Reid ripped his other hand out of his hair, and began to hit with force. Hotch jumped up this time and grabbed his other arm, apparently unable to watch the display of aggression any longer.

“Spencer I need you to calm down.” Hotch ordered softly.

Reid whimpered and fought against them in response, his rocking increasing in speed and making it difficult to hold his arms still. Rossi, who had been a silent observer from the start, stood up and made his way over to them, watching Reid’s face closely and then looking to the table. He then began to take the files and put them away, taking the pictures of the boys’ bodies and shoving them into folders. With the pictures out of his line of site, he was visibly relaxing with each breath, not fighting as hard to get away.

“That’s it pretty boy, take deep breaths.” Morgan whispered.  


“Here Reid,” Prentiss said softly as she held out a fidget toy to him.

“Spencer, I’m going to let go of your arm now, if you try to hit yourself again, I’ll have to take it back.” Hotch said lowly into his ear.

Reid didn’t respond, but when Hotch let his arm go he reached out and immediately grabbed the toy. Morgan let go now too and watched as Reid rocked himself calmly and played with the fidget device. Rossi appeared a moment later and lay a thick blanket across his lap. Morgan exchanged a sad look with JJ as he tried not to look at the bruising beginning to form on Reid’s head. He knew he would do anything to help this kid,- his teammate, his friend, his family.

*************

_Weight, - the weight of an object (or the weight of an amount of matter) is the measure of the intensity of the force imposed on this object by the local gravitational field._ Weight can be oppressive, restricting. Not this weight, the weight of this heavy blanket is soothing and comforting. The smell of pancakes registers and instantly his stomach is growling. Reid vaguely realizes over the throbbing of his head, that he is in his own bed, in his own home. He shifts the weighted blanket back and realizes that he is still fully clothed, minus his shoes.

He stretches and finally opens his eyes, where he is assaulted with bright rays of morning sun piercing through his window. Feeling overheated, he stands, his limbs popping as he does so. He hears laughter and for a moment he tenses, and then relaxes again when he realizes it’s Morgan and Garcia laughing. He smiles, they must have brought him here last night, stayed, and now they are making him breakfast. He feels safe with his team, his friends, his family.

Stumbling out of bed and to the window, he heaves it open and deeply breaths the fresh air as the cool morning breeze combs through his hair, and he smiles-

The birds are chirping.

**Author's Note:**

> Thinking about continuing this, but not sure. Let me know what you think!


End file.
